


The Hist's Announcement

by deerynoise



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Argonians, Hist, Imperial City, Lore - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 19:57:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11630787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerynoise/pseuds/deerynoise
Summary: The Hero of Kvatch has returned to the Imperial city, choosing to regroup at the home of family friends. As they all wonder what to do next about the impending crisis, Sings-Many-Songs is notified that something is wrong with their brother.





	The Hist's Announcement

“Sings..?”

The blacksmith looked up from their work desk. A tuft of brown hair, a youthful face, peeked its way from behind the cellar door.

“Yes, small one? Why are you awake so early?”

Pilpen set his tongue in his cheek, trotting over to the argonian three times his size. A confident young thing, just past his 15th birthday– probably resented the older figure still referring to him as if he still were ten. Alas, this morning there were no plucky remarks. Instead his brows were knit with worry. “It’s already _eight_ , Sings.”

Eight? Really? Sings raised a brow as they looked back on their work. The sleepless evening had become sleepless dawn, apparently. Frustrating, considering they felt like they made little headway in regards to their schematics.

“…So it is.” They conceded, smiling down at him. “Is something troubling you, pup? I can usually hear you a full minute before you arrive.”

“It’s Tail.” He said immediately. “He’s acting strange. I don’t know how to describe it.”

It wasn’t unlike their brother to act oddly – though given the frown etched onto the little imperial’s features, Sings figured this was beyond his usual eccentricities. They put their tools down and stretched stiff shoulders.

“Alright. Take me to him.”

__

“We were having breakfast,” Pip said, looking over his shoulder to make sure his large friend was still following. That was good, at least. Sings knew how dearly the boy had missed their brother during his absence – two years was an eternity for the young (and the adult, if they were honest with themselves). The pair walked briskly across the outer pathways of the estate, past stone columns and still-dark doorways. The human boy struggled on to explain, but Sings knew what was wrong as soon as they had stepped outside.

The air _buzzed_. A low, shuddering tone which vibrated through the cool morning. Like the noise of insects in summer – but somehow strong enough to be felt in one’s very blood and bone. Striking, but not totally unpleasant. It was an alerting call. It got attention. But it was, at the same time, familiar. A mother calling their children inside after playing.  _Come to the house, now. We’re going to get a storm soon._

Huleedal was found not long after. A small courtyard was in the middle of the Lenoni’s home, furnished with a nice garden that let in the breeze and sun, and was equally distant from almost everywhere else on the property. Sings remembered when Maro had the entire spot redecorated. It was her, truly, that made the place so nice again, after the human family’s parents had let everything rot away during the prior decades.

Their brother sat at a table near the far side of the garden. Fruit and cheese, pastries, and drink were still laid out. One seat was empty and pushed aside, where the youngest Lenoni sibling had left to fetch the second argonian.

Tail was a fidgety creature. Jumpy, even since they were children. Which made the fact that he sat _stone still_ , one arm thrown over the back of his seat, so striking to behold. He was tense, focused, as if he was primed to either bolt _or_ attack, and was possibly struggling on which to settle on. He didn’t regard them as they came back, did not even move his head besides a small reflexive twitch of a fin. Eyes – the color of candle flame, a trait they both shared – were locked on the southernmost wall. He was looking for or _at_ something, though the stone was entirely blank.

Sings approached the table and turned their head in the same direction. Their twin brother’s pupils were all but slivers as he strained to see nothing at all.

“What is it?” He finally asked. So vague, but Sings knew that he meant the humming. It still sounded through the air, coming from the swamplands. It was carried on the wind, but equally was in their chest, their lungs, and their head.

“The Hist. It is talking to us.”

“It’s never been that loud before.” He said back. His voice lacked its usual charisma, the special and odd inflection he liked to force onto it. “Why is it so strong?”

“I am not sure, but I felt the same thing at Kvatch. When I saw the gate there.” They finally broke their stare, instead turning to their brother to talk more directly. “We have already heard news of more gates opening in other provinces. If I had to guess, I would say it is both a warning, and a call to defend home. The daedra could be in the Marsh, too.”

They watched as Tail shook himself out of the message’s grasp. Ignored the little pang of hurt when they saw his face twist into a vague expression of repulsion as he came back to himself. Had to cut any irritation out of their voice when they continued. “It becomes background noise, soon enough. Do not worry about it overmuch.”

“It can quit that.” He grumbled, sitting back in his seat properly. “ _This_ is our home, we’re already fighting against it here.”

Sings sighed. “Then it will probably let us both go sometime soon. It is not stupid, Huleedal. It can sense what we want.”  That was probably why it barely talked to him in the first place.

“Eh.” He relented. One last wary glance shot to the south before his eyes lit up again, and his attention was brought back to Pilpen.

“Sorry for worrying you, buddy. It was nothin’.” A huge grin brightened the atmosphere, and he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Didn’t mean to get all weird on ya. Why don’t you come with me to the market district after we finish breakfast? I’ve got some errands to run.”

“Okay.” Was the relieved reply. Pip plunked back down in his seat and started eat his food faster than he really should have, eager to run around with the red troublemaker.

Sings shoved a paw into the boy’s hair as well- happy, at least, that this had not been too serious an issue. But they were stopped before they left the table.

“Hey!” Tail honked at them, throwing a grape at their head with _annoying_ precision. “Did you eat yet?”

“I am fi-”

“NO. Theyf been awayke all nigh’.”

Sings squinted down at the teen, his mouth full of food. Little tattle-tale could not keep a secret.

They looked up again in time for their brother to toss a sweetroll and apple at their _face_ – but they caught it before he could make a mess. Huleedal beamed at his sister, too. A gentler smile, albeit mischievous.  He just _loved_ chiding _them_ when given the chance.

“Eat something, you big lug. And take a nap. You can spare a few hours.”

It didn’t feel like it. Not with how chaotic the past few weeks had been. Not with how they’d only come outside because the Hist was warning its children of danger. But they thought back to their workshop in the cellar, and how things there had struggled along. And they could not do much more of until they heard back from Martin or Baurus, either.

The sky was still clear. Still grey-blue in the early morning. Everyone was already doing best they could.

An hour or two. Fine, they could concede to that.  


End file.
